When the enemies unite
by Firenze.Sun
Summary: Everything in House life is perfect.But there are old enemies that just won't let it be.Wilson is raped and suddenly his perfect world comes crushing down.Now House must fight two powerful enemies and comfort and extremely hurt Wilson.Violence,slash,NC-17
1. Too good to be true

**A/N: **Well, I've got to warn you. This fic is NC-17 because it has esplicit sex and violence and rape. And this would go the same in the next chapter.  
But well, if you think that you are mature enough, read it. I don't want to spoil this, so, go!

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**Chapter 1**

**Too good to be true**

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The shine of the cane was dull, reflecting all the possible light of the place plunge into darkness. House unhooked his new cane from the motorcycle after having parked in his new home. How weird the phrase sounded. New home. But it was true. As weird and true was the phrase: House was happy. Despite he still was the same jerk as always, the acid and sarcastic comments were still hidden in the tip of his tongue to come out in the inopportune—inopportune for everybody else, of course—, he was all the happy that he can imagine that he could be.

House took the keys and opened the door. The sound of the childish laugh coming from the kitchen was the first that welcomed him, immediately followed by Cuddy's voice.

"Put the table, the dinner is ready."

"And how about a good evening? How was your day, honey?" was the answer from House while he removed the jacket and limped towards the kitchen.

"House, we'd been all day together arguing about the chemotherapy that you wanted to give to the fever patient, so I perfectly know how your day was."

However, despite the arguing when he entered the kitchen, Cuddy greeted him with a kiss. Then, doing balancing act worthy of an acrobat with the cane and the plates, House obeyed his girlfriend—that really was something that he couldn't get used to—had asked him. The chicken with rice was tasty, even though there was missing the delicate balance of condiments that only Wilson knew how to do. For some moments, the diagnostician stayed thinking of his best friend, but soon, the possibility of a sex night drove him away of his thought. And so the possibility could change into reality, he took care that Rachel was asleep after cleaning the table. When he reached the room he found Cuddy waiting him with her best outfit of underwear. Undoubtedly this would be a good night, he thought with lust.

Later, when the director of the hospital was curled up between his arms getting ready for sleep, once again the thoughts of his best friend invaded him. It had been a while since he last saw him. Both were busy with a lot of work and that the two had girlfriend take out the little free time that they had. Well, he said to himself, maybe tomorrow I could arrange a little time to steal him the lunch.

"There is something wrong?" asked Cuddy with woman intuition.

"Nothing," lied House while he closed his eyes to spend a pleasant night sleep.

Wilson close the last file from a patient, Sam Connery, fifteen-years-old and already he barely had two months left. His eyes sting him, but not enough so he would fall asleep over the desk, but yes to make him yearn for the comfort of his bed and Sam's around him. With a sigh, he put the papers in his briefcase and took his coat. After making sure that he was not forgetting anything, he turned off the light and went out of his office. Once in the parking lot, he took out the key of his car and started to play with them in his hands. It was dark, he thought, weird. He raised the look to observe the streetlights. Several of them were broken. That was not there the last time I checked, he reasoned. But he attributed it to a lack of attention from his part, he minimized its importance and continued walking. The beep of the car alarm deactivating sounded in the silence of the night.

The oncologist didn't hear the steps that were coming closer. Everything that he felt was a hard blow in the back of his head and then he found himself in the floor downwards. A kick in the ribs prevented him from trying to get up. Somebody took him by the hairs and dragged him to a darker site of the parking lot. He scream out of pain, but a new kick, this time in the face, made him shut up. Soon he felt the metallic flavor of the blood that came from his nose in his mouth.

The hands released him. Wilson stayed in the floor, shaking, terrified by the consequences that the smallest of his move could bring. Something hard strokes with the shape of a stick stroke him in the back. Once more. And again. Soon he was insensitive to the new pain. After who knows who the blows stopped. But then, the doctor felt something more that chilled his blood.

"Quiet, pretty one," said his attacker while he pressed a knife against the neck of his victim, "Don't do anything. You wouldn't want that I had to disfigure your beautiful face."

Wilson nodded as he could trying that the knife damaged the less possible the skin of his neck.

"That's how I like it," said who ever it was whit a whispering voice.

Next Wilson stopped feeling the knife blade against him, to listen the noise of the cloth being tore. The oncologist was devoid of his shirt and in a similar way followed the rest of his clothes until he was naked in the open. With a thoughtless strength he was pushed against the floor and with terror he heard the sound of a zipper being opened.

Oh, my God, he thought, I'm going to be raped. This has to be a nightmare from which I'll soon wake up. But the pain of the forced penetration and the extreme physical presence of the other convinced him that this was no nightmare, but the cruel and horrible reality. The fierce movements hurt him and he could almost feel the inner skin of his butt tearing apart. The feeling of the penis of the rapist inside him made him nauseous but the physical and emotional pain was bigger. The frenetic rhythm against the rough cement floor scratched him. After what seemed years, Wilson felt the other come.

He felt relief, now everything will be over. It didn't matter if he killed him with the knife or if he just left him there freezing. Everything would be over. But he was wrong. The stick. He was being raped with the stick now! Is that this hadn't got an end? However, it was short, it was only the time enough for the rapist to regain his erection. Without bothering to remove the stick, he grabbed him by the hairs and sat him. The stick was acting as a laver with the floor and hurt him, as a doctor he didn't want to imagine the damage that it was producing to his rectum.

Merciless, the attacker put his member inside Wilson's mouth.

"Suck!" he ordered.

Despite he was chocking, Wilson obeyed as he could. Whatever it took to finish as soon as possible. But the rapist had resistance and the end seemed not to exist. Finally, after what this time seemed centuries, the oncologist felt the salty taste of the semen. Now, he didn't allow himself to have hopes, who knew how much he had to endure. But he was wrong once more. With a violent push, he took out the stick from the butt and he trough it in front of Wilson's view. It was a cane.

It's the same as House's new one, he thought, but his is a bit lighter and it doesn't have stains of blood. Then, everything went black.

Thirteen had come back to the hospital a week ago. The reason why he had gone away was simple; she was confused and needed sometime alone. It was that when she left the letter, she had found out something. She was pregnant. Foreman was the father and he had not found the chance to tell him yet. She didn't want to be attached forever to that man. But the time alone, made her realize what the responsible thing to do was. The neurologist had to know it, because when her illness finished her, the child would still have a parent to be with. That only if the other one accept it.

But without matter what, that day the doctor walked with his mind made up to tell him before the size of his belly was noticeable and the words were unnecessary. While she walked, lost in her thoughts, making over and over again phrases that she would say, her feet walked on their own. And she didn't know why she deviated from her usual route, it was early, she had decided to come earlier than everybody else so she had time to soothe. She never took the long path trough the parking lot, she had never liked it. But for a special reason today had been the exception.

The lights were out. That was strange, she thought, at this early hour they should be on. And then she saw him. Curled up on the floor, stained with blood and with a light layer of snow.

First was the surprise from finding something like that, then;

"Oh, my God!" she said when she recognized the person on the floor.

The blood had dry in Wilson's face, under the disfigured nose. And yet in the unconscious, an expression of terror was in her face. Dr. Hadley inspected quickly the oncologist before wake him up. He was full of bruises everywhere, but the worst was his buttocks. The red scab was big, the inner damage had to be terrible, it was a miracle that he was still alive. Thirteen put two fingers in Wilson's neck, where she could see small curs, probably made by a knife press. There were beats, weak, but they were there.

Wilson slowly opened his eyes. First he was confused, but then the fear took control of him. He feared that the nightmare wasn't over yet.

"Easy, Wilson. It's me, Thirteen," she hurried to comfort him, "Everything is okay. All is over now."

The oncologist wanted to speak now, but he couldn't. He didn't have the strengths ad she close her eyes. He found safety in the friend hand resting in his shoulder.

Hold on, Wilson, hold on, thought Thirteen while she took the cell phone to call the hospital and that somebody came with a trolley. And while she waited, she took off his jacket and put it over the defenseless man. After a while they came from E.R. and put him in a trolley, covering him with a blanket. Thirteen was about to go with him when she noticed the cane of the floor.

The same thought that came trough Wilson's mind before passing out, went through hers. Could it be possible that House has done that? No, of course not. The idea disappeared as fast as it appeared. But it did remain that one that told her that there was something dark behind all this.

The sirens were heard, Thirteen sighed, surely the police would want her testimony.

House grumbled trying to get to sleep. Cuddy had got up ad she spared on noises. Undoubtedly she was trying to convince House to get up too and went early to the hospital. But the woman was underestimating the nephrologist stubbornness. The phone ringed.

Great, just what he needed, more noise. The sleep was already out of her reach. But it didn't matter, he still was stubborn enough to refuse to open the eyes. Cuddy answered the phone.

"Hi?"

And then silence.

"All right… Thanks for calling…"

The sound of the receiver crashing against the device.

"House…"

The named opened the eyes. He knew it wasn't time for games.

"House…" the director doubted, but there was not gentle way to say what she had to say, "Wilson was raped."

"No…" was all he could say.

No, he continued repeating in his mind. No, no, no, no.

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**A/N: **I hope thar you liked it. And I know that it doesn't seem slash yet, and less Hilson. But I think that somehow is pretty obvious how things will go.  
This is just the begining. Those who know me for a while, I hope that you can sense and improvement, because that's what I'm trying.  
By the way, I need a Beta-reader. Somebody that can help me correcting all the grammar and vocabulary mistakes I make during translation. Anybody volunteers?  
Again, I hope you liked it!


	2. Something fishy

**A/N: **Well, forgive me that it has taken me so long, but honestly it's a slow building fic, is hard to make it without falling in OoC, so...

I hope you like it...

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**Chapter 2**

**Something fishy**

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It had been at night.

"Hands up!" said a voice in the dark, what made his face unseen, the poor light of the place shined fiercely over the gun. "Strip!"

A brown haired and chocolate eyes man obeyed with fear. Trying to hide the trembling that controlled him as his life depended on that, because it did.

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Thirteen shacked his head. She had to put away those images from his head. Instead, he focused her attention in the police that was interrogating her. No, detective, that was what he had said he was. But she couldn't be sure in that moment, because she had been lost in the perverted images of his mind, she hadn't paid attention when he had said his name.

And ugly sensation ran through the spine of the doctor, and she knew it was not related to the fact of finding Wilson lying on the floor in that way. It was those grey eyes. There was something in then that she disliked, something inhuman. As if they were dead, she thought. A glacial cold that sparkled as if they take delight in other's misery.

"Please, tell me about how you found the victim," he said with a sweet voice, but sounded as devil's whisper.

"I was walking trough the parking lot and then…" Thirteen's voice stopped; once again the scene appeared before her eyes, as real as if it was happening again, "then I saw him lying on the ground."

"All right, easy," the detective wanted to comfort her, but there was something in his manner, in his essence, that disgusted the woman sense of Thirteen, "Go on."

"Once I checked that he had pulse, I called the hospital so they bring a trolley. That's all I got to say."

"We found this at the crime scene," said the man of the grey eyes, a sparkle shined in them while he showed the cane enveloped in an evidence bag, "Had you seen it before?"

"Yes," answered Thirteen, it was absurd that she tried to deny it, "near Wilson on the floor."

The sparkle in the eyes had intensified, he seemed like a feline licking his lips seeing the snack he was about to enjoy before throwing himself over his prey.

"Is it similar to anyone you know?"

Remy didn't know what to answer. He didn't know which the relation of that man with House was, but he knew he wanted to blame him for Wilson's rape.

"No," was the answer that came from her mouth.

"I had been informed that doctor House is a personal friend of doctor Wilson and that recently he had bought a cane similar to this one. As is my understanding you work for him, am I right?"

A look was all he needed, a silence affirmation. He continued talking before even waiting that the words started to take shape in the doctor's throat.

"You know? It is usual that those who know the rapist try to protect him. Usually they do it because they can't believe. But it's a pity though. Because now they are accomplice when they cover him and they end up in jail too," said with a smile that tried to be delightful but was hair-rising actually, "But that isn't your case, is it?"

"No, is not," said the doctor firmly.

"So you deny that this is the same that doctor House's one?"

"That's right," answered Thirteen, "Doctor House's one is a brighter color."

Remy Hadley was capable of noticing how the smile in the detective trembled for an instant. There was definitely something dark

House's mind didn't work as usual. One part was stuck, incapable of accepting the reality. And the other part created thousand of possible scenarios of how would he found him or how had all happened. When he arrived at the hospital he was surprised he didn't know how he had driven from Cuddy's house to there. He looked at his side by instinct to where his cane used to be. But he didn't have it with him. He couldn't tell in this moment if he had forgotten it or if he just couldn't find it. Those last moments had happened in a nebulous, and in that nebulous he asked for Wilson.

In that moment he was in surgery. They had to urgently repair the damaged tissue in his butt. The nephrologists stayed in the waiting room. Someone get close to him and started to talk to him. He took a while to realize it was Cameron, however, as soon as he understood she was trying to comfort him, he got angry.

"Go away," he said, "Go to comfort the mum of a cancer kid or something like that."

Cameron stammered a few words. House looked her with his more hurtful look that he had. He didn't care to hurt her feelings, he never cared, maybe after the year of therapy something had changed. But all that had changed. The doctor left him. At last, he wanted to be alone and delight himself in his misery until Wilson came out. And then some more until he wake up.

Chase took him out of his stupor when he came out from the operating room. House looked the doctor expectative, the barrier that separated the outside from his feelings was down but when he established visual contact they raised up again.

"He is stable," informed the blonde doctor trying to hide his worry with a professional tone, "The damage in the skin tissue was severe but we had been able to suture it well, however, he must remain in the hospital to control the risk of possible infections."

"I did Med School, I perfectly know why he must remain in."

Chase didn't back down.

"The anesthesia will vanish in five hours," and he didn't add anything more, it was known that it was his way of saying, "Go and make sure you are there when he wakes up."

Only for an instant House showed the intense pain he was going trough. The will was not enough even to make his mask of every day. But the stubbornness could more, and even his body seemed of lead, and as anger as his best costume, he put his eyebrows together and transform his mouth into a thin line.

Then he entered into the room and saw him. The wounds despite having been treated gave away the abuse he had received. The worst was in his face, a black eyed, grazes cause by the rubbing against the cement and that trail of weakness in his features that hit deep. And even though he would never admit it, the fear of losing him shacked him in the inside.

He stayed sitting at a side until he woke up. Finally, Wilson opened his eyes, as son as the conscience started getting up a trace of terror took control of the oncologist's look until the familiar walls of the hospital bring him back to the moment. The nightmare was behind. Then he noticed House at a side and the familiar presence brought him security. The eyes found with his friend's and that silent dialogue that only takes place between very close persons occurred.

"Next Thursday not matter what we must have our poker night."

Because it had been Thursday, and who knows, maybe if they had done it, they wouldn't…

Wilson understood the guilt of his friend and a weak but true smile slip in his face.

"Maybe when I feel better I can win you a couple of hands."

"Yes, like that is gonna happen if I don't let you."

They both relaxed, Wilson felt like he could rest. The horrible visions that came every time he closed his eyes were still there, but now, they stayed as just a product of his imagination and terrible memories, distant of reality. He was far from being okay, but everything seem to head to a soon normality, but if it were to be like that Wilson would have never be raped and the delicate peace that had formed was broken when those grey eyes entered trough the door.

"Good morning, doctor House," the eyes were delighted for a few seconds when they saw the reaction cause before turning toward the other, "Doctor Wilson."

"What do you want, Tritter?" asked House with poison in his voice.

"I'm here just to take declarations," and after a pause, he added, "I'm the detective in charge of the case."

And even though the lips remained still, it could be seen behind that look a grin from ear to ear of sadist pleasure. With a fake softness he sat in one of the empty chair close to Wilson's bed. The detective noticed how the patient moved slightly away from him. He arranged the papers that he carried in his hands before slowly raising his look towards House.

"All right, to begin, Doctor House, could you tell us where you were between 7.45 and 9.25 at night?"

"If you are suggesting what I think you are suggesting then you are a worst detective that I believed it possible," answered acidly House and yet he felt it as a lame answer, his mind didn't want to provide him with the sarcastic comments as always.

"You would do better answering the question."

"I was in Cuddy's house and I spent there the entire night."

"Can somebody confirm it?"

"If you are trying to blame you should really make a greater effort, I was all night with her," a sharp stab of guilt made him felt a bitter taste in his mouth, memories of the night of sex came to his memory, all while Wilson… of course, that was what Tritter wanted to do, he knew where to dig.

"Well, that's all for now. Later when you have rested I would like to take your declaration, Dr. Wilson," said while he get up to leave, when he was about to go trough the door, he turn around and staring at House he added, "By the way, Dr. House, where do you have your cane?"

The cane which Wilson had been hitter and raped, that one that looked so similar to that other cane that House couldn't find this morning.

"No," said Wilson, a frightened look fix on Tritter, "It wasn't him," he wanted to add more but the words were just lost in the way from his brain to his mouth.

"If you want to prove his innocence it would be good that you show me your cane, it would be good evidence in your favor."

Wilson looked at House begging him that he showed the cane, that he showed to that jerk how wrong he was. But House didn't have his cane, he hadn't been able to find it in his rush to come to the hospital.

"I don't have it here, it's at Lisa's."

"I would advise you that you bring it to the commissary as soon as possible to clean your name."

The oncologist contorted once more in his bed unable to bear with the idea of House even where related to it. And House noticed it. Enough was enough. And this had crossed the line. As if his incapacity didn't exist, he rashly got up and cornering the detective against the wall, he spoke:

"If I get to know that you had been related to it in anything, even the minimum, I swear to you that it will be the last thing you do in your life."

"And what do you plan to do," slowly said Tritter, "stuck inside me a thermometer again?" a sinister smile curved his features, "But easy, justice is always carried out."

And without adding anything more, he left. House stayed standing where he was, the failure could be read in his eyes, and also the helplessness.

"House," called Wilson.

However he didn't answer, Wilson had to insist once more before he turned around.

"I _know_ that you had nothing to do with this…"

Wilson stopped trying to put the word in the right order, as always he tried to protect his friend. The diagnostician took advantage of the pause.

"It's my fault," he said.

The oncologist looked at him as if he just didn't want to understand.

"This is his revenge, he sent for you being raped. It's my entire fault."

"No…" said Wilson but he couldn't say anything more, the same tears that slip in his eyes, closed his throat.

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**A/N:** I've told you it's hard not fall into OoC, but well, I do it the best I can. Although I had my excyses. They are both in shock and let's remeber how House behaved in "Knight Fall" if he did all that to defend him from his ex-wife, what would he do in this case!

To sum up, I hope I didn't made them out of character...

It's slowly written, but I'm very proud of this fic. Thanks for all!

And oh, ths hadn't been beta-ed yet!


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